


Got The Whole World In His Hands

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Celebrations, Groping, Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Workplace, post-season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the 2012 Brazilian Grand Prix, Rob's lost in numbers and thoughts of Felipe when Felipe himself turns up, sparking the sort of celebration that they both always crave when they're together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got The Whole World In His Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Tim Hughes song 'Whole World In His Hands.' Bundles of love and gratitude to gemjam for the sweet speedy beta :)

 

 

'We Are The Champions' was still blasting out of the Red Bull garage. Some journalist somewhere probably read it as a gigantic 'fuck you' to Ferrari, but Rob just smiled to himself and got on with his work. Fernando and Felipe had both finished on the podium, and Ferrari had a fuck ton of kit to pack-up for the journey back to base while Rob had a huge pile of race data to plough through too. Not that he minded. It was his job and he was fucking great at it. He’d make a dent in it before the journey homeward started.

 

 

It had turned into a pretty decent season for Felipe. No joke, the first half had been grindingly awful, but by the end of it, he’d picked up a lot of points, including two podiums, and had done more than his fair share of helping Fernando stay at the front of the pack. It had taken some balls to keep on believing when most people had been saying that Felipe had lost his spark and was finished at Ferrari, but Felipe had gritted his teeth and had driven out of his skin. Rob had been right in his ear the whole time. No regrets. The end of Felipe’s season had been fantastic.

 

 

Of course, Rob was Ferrari all the way and so was pissed that Fernando hadn’t gotten the world championship that he’d been striving so fucking hard for. But the fact was that if Fernando’s season was more important to him than Felipe’s, then he wasn’t doing his job right.

 

 

Rob tapped at his iPad and got another lot of numbers lined up. The mechanics were still smiling as they worked nearby. Ferrari hadn’t won, but they’d come pretty damn close, and both drivers had reached the podium today. It had been a good day, if you blanked out Sebastian’s win and the look in Fernando’s eyes post-race. Rob winced. Stefano would see to him. He always had the right words for the team’s number one driver. Rob wouldn’t even try talking to the Spaniard tonight.

 

 

His foot tapped and he stamped out some pins-and-needles, fingers flying across the iPad screen. There’d be drinks later, the team going out for a wrap party of sorts. End of the season, time to celebrate survival and success. They’d been a serious threat to Red Bull this year, even more so than McLaren. So maybe next year they could design a car that actually matched Fernando and Felipe’s considerable skills, then they could give Red Bull even more to worry about. Let the development period begin. Rob was looking forward to a decent pint.

 

 

There was somebody singing. Felipe’s name seemed to be part of the lyrics. They were in Brazil after all and Felipe had gotten on the podium in front of his hometown crowd. His tears had been genuine. Rob had been extremely glad that no cameras had been on him during that trophy ceremony.

 

 

The smell of champagne was everywhere, and it seemed to be getting stronger. Rob pulled his head out of his intricate spiral of numbers in time to witness Felipe slipping into the garage, just as the mechanics cleared out and the pit-side doors closed. No public admittance or gawking now. Rob tucked his iPad away.

 

 

Felipe was still in his racing suit and looked completely soaked through, thanks to the pungent combination of sweat and champagne. His eyes shone brightly though and Rob couldn’t stop himself from smiling widely in response.

 

 

“Escaping your loving fans?”

 

 

“Ah, it’s crazy out there. Crazy good. They love to see me do well.”

 

 

That was an understatement. Brazilian fans were seriously passionate and Felipe was their great hope. Seeing him on the podium had sent them into fever pitch. They’d only politely applauded the new World Champion for fuck’s sake. Felipe’s third place had meant a lot more to them.

 

 

Rob watched as Felipe came to lean against the wall next to him, looking tired but still possessing shiny edges of adrenalin. He wouldn’t properly come down for hours. Then he’d crash for about a day, sleeping off the podium, the race, the season. And Rob would be the voice in his ear that woke him up. That wasn’t his job; that was his choice.

 

 

Felipe twisted his compact body, scrubbing a hand through his wet hair. He must have lost his cap somewhere; maybe a fan had snatched it for a souvenir. His smile was a softer more private expression now, one that only Rob got to see. Something zinged up Rob’s spine. Felipe always had that effect on him and the fucker knew it. Rob’s fingers twitched; he was tempted to grab hold of his iPad again and concentrate on the numbers instead of Felipe, just to give the Brazilian the jolt he deserved.

 

 

Felipe must have picked up on that because a second later, he pivoted his body so that he ended up in Rob’s personal space, standing between his legs. The smell of champagne was really heady. And Rob’s fingers now twitched for an entirely different reason. Bastard.

 

 

“It was a good year, yes?”

 

 

Rob nodded, achingly aware of Felipe’s closeness and heat and how much closer he wanted to be. “We finished with style, yeah.”

 

 

“And next year, we do better.”

 

 

“Always the aim.”

 

 

Their eyes had been locked on each other for a while now and Rob couldn’t say for sure who moved first, but in a heartbeat his arms were tight around Felipe’s waist as the Brazilian writhed impatiently against him. Felipe was all bite and hiss, his mouth fused to Rob’s, his teeth sinking in, his tongue licking away a drop of blood. This was a ‘fuck yeah!’ to the world, even though the world couldn’t see it. This was their little team of two, part of the greater whole, celebrating a fucking fantastic race and the end of what could now be declared a successful season. This was them finally letting go after a weekend of fraught tension. This was exactly how Rob wanted to remember the season. This was exactly what Rob wanted, period.

 

 

He rolled his hips, desperate for friction and more of Felipe. Felipe’s hands were already under Rob’s shirt, nails scratching and marking as his mouth greedily travelling down Rob’s jaw to his neck. Rob gasped and tightened his grip. Numbers and stats looped in his head, exploding into crazy mythic shapes. The smell of oil and engines and sweat mixed with the champagne and the faint sounds of people singing outside. Inside was so much better. It always would be.

 

 

_-the end_


End file.
